Sunshine On a Rainy Day
by jetplanejane
Summary: Cooper Freedman's in Chicago for a medical conference and has a run-in with Paul Kellerman. They get off on the wrong foot after Sara, quite literally, gets knocked off her feet. Because of something Paul Adelstein said about Kellerman kicking Cooper's butt.


It's pouring rain and the edges of the newspaper covering Sara Tancredi's head are disintegrating into papier-mâché bits that cling to her wet chestnut hair like soggy cerebro-gray confetti. The first taxi she tries to flag down already has a fare and the second is off-duty. Finally, one stops outside the hotel across the street.

_Third time lucky,_ she thinks, triumphantly, just as Cooper Freedman is thinking: _Least funnest Future of Pediatrics Conference_ ever_!_ He struggles to open his broken umbrella as he steps out of the cab. The damn thing is like a giant, dying aluminum and polyester spider and he kind of just wants to put it out of its misery already. Getting laid would have made the trip to Chicago a bazillion times better, but everyone is acting so damn long-term relationshippy these days. Whatever happened to no-strings-attached hotel sex? He has a nice room. _I have a generous bed_._ It's Cal king size!_

"Hey!"

Okay, maybe it's not_ that_ big_, but it's a good size – nothing to be ashamed of._ Violet would probably mention Freud at this point. Actually, no, Violet would probably mention _Allan_ at this point, and that depresses Cooper even more until the second "Hey!" reaches his brain and he turns and sees the tall, slender woman waving at him. He gives a confused, feeble wave in return. "Hey yourself?" he calls, unsurely.

"I want that cab! Tell the driver to wait!"

"My what?" But he can't make out what Sara is shouting over the impatient, gridlocked traffic honking its way through the downpour.

* * *

Daniel Hale is just stepping on the gas to negotiate a gap when he sees the guy standing beneath the battered umbrella. He looks so strikingly similar to his partner that he doesn't see _her_ crossing the street.

"Dannylookout!" Kellerman yells.

Hale slams his foot down hard on the brake, but it's a split second too late and the vehicle's bumper clips Sara above her left knee. A kaleidoscope of pain blooms in her wrist as she reaches out to break her fall on the wet asphalt.

Across the street, Cooper witnesses the accident in a kind of dramatic Hollywood slow motion. He once saw a hooker try to run over her pimp on Sunset (but that's a whole other story). He tosses the mangled umbrella and starts running, dodging fenders and the trunks of tail-light-lit sedans.

"Damnit, Danny," Paul Kellerman swears, opening the passenger door. This_ is why I don't let you drive_. But his partner is too stunned to respond to the admonishment, white-knuckling the steering column in shock.

The Oceanside Wellness pediatrician reaches Sara at the same time that the Secret Service agent does. "Are you okay?" Cooper goes down on his knees and cups her chin. "N-n-n-no, don't try to get up. Let me take a look at you."

"Sir," Kellerman begins, standing over them with his umbrella and producing his do-whatever-I-want-and-get-away-with-it badge, "you need to step back."

Cooper squints at the ID and Kellerman all dry and comfy. He's too annoyed to notice the spooky familiarity of the face. "You're a Secret Service agent? Wow, that's awesomely awesome – good for you – but I'm a doctor so how about_ you _step back, okay?" He turns his attention back to the injured woman. "Where are you hurt?"

She cradles her forearm to her body protectively. "I'm pretty sure my wrist is fractured." She speaks with remarkable calm, the pain manifested as a stern look of concentration creasing the smooth space between her eyes.

"Oh, G-d." Hale remembers to breathe and exhales, guiltily, hunched over in the rain, "I am _so_ sorry –"

"You don't need to apologize," his partner interrupts. "She should've looked both ways before crossing the street." He looks down pointedly at Sara. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that?"

"Hey, anyone ever tell you you're an asshole?" Cooper asks, and he's pretty sure _someone_ has.

Sara is starting to shiver, from the cold and shock. "Gentlemen, can we not do this right now? Please?" She looks from one to the other and she sees what Hale saw: the subtle similarity in the eyes and the high forehead. Then Cooper is asking her if she can stand.

"You got clipped pretty bad. Can you walk?" She nods and he slips his arm around her waist, helping her to her feet. "Okay, up we get. Let's get you out of the rain. My name's Cooper, by the way; Cooper Freedman, MD."

"Sara Tancredi, _also_ MD."

He smiles. "Really? Small world. I mean, what are the chances that you're a doctor, I'm a doctor…we meet after two random idiots try to run you over?"

"Not good." She winces a smile and limps toward the Impala, supported by Dr. Freedman who sits her down out of the rain which is, thankfully, easing into a drizzle.

"Give me your tie," Cooper tells Kellerman.

"Excuse me?"

"Your tie," he repeats. _That thing I'd like to use to strangle the jackassery out of you_.

Reluctantly, with a long-suffering sigh and a not-even-gonna-ask look, Kellerman tugs the hundred-dollar silk tie from his collar. But instead of choking the government agent, Cooper uses it to create a makeshift sling for Sara. He's still tying the knot when a police cruiser pulls up behind them.

"They tried to run this woman over," Cooper informs them laconically when they question the four.

"Officers –" Kellerman, a disarming smile on his boyish face, goes on the charm offensive – "nobody tried to run anyone over. My partner got a little distracted, he didn't see her. By her own admission, Miss Tancredi wasn't looking where she was going. It was an _accident."_

One of the officers looks at him and then Cooper peculiarly. "Which one of you was the driver?" The other wants to know.

Hale owns up, offering a sheepish explanation for not stopping: "It's raining and I couldn't see so well…I was trying to get a better look at him and I didn't see her."

"A better look at me?" Cooper asks, surprised (and he's not the only one).

"You sort of look like my partner." He shrugs, helplessly, glancing at Kellerman.

"He's right." The cop who's been staring skeptically at Cooper and Kellerman, asks, "You two related?"

Kellerman and the doctor exchange doubtful looks.

"No." Cooper is weirded out by the mere suggestion. "No _way."_

"You do kind of look alike," the second police officer observes.

"I have hair," Cooper argues, like it's his best feature. "I have _more_ hair." It's kind of plastered to his head right now on account of being soaking wet, but it usually has _volume_. It could be frigging Violet hair if it wanted. "Look, this is ridiculous. Can we just focus?" Which is rich, coming from him. "Dr. Tancredi's injured. Can you take our statements at the hospital?"

Sensitive to the situation, the officers give the two of them a ride to the hospital with Kellerman and Hale following in the Impala. Cooper feels compelled to share with his best friend and crush that he's in the back of a police car with an attractive redhead, so he texts Violet. And just to prove he's not bullshitting, he snaps a photo with his phone.

* * *

At the hospital, the X-ray results confirm that Sara has a colle's fracture. It's nothing pain killers and six weeks in a cast won't fix, but the attending physician wants to keep her for observation for a few hours. No amount of stubborn "I'm fine's" is going to sway either the attending or Dr. Freedman who insists on delivering his professional opinion, even though Sara's about twenty years too old to be one of his patients.

"You need anything? Someone I can call? Friend? Boyfriend…?" He cocks his head like it just occurred to him. "Girlfriend, maybe?"

"I have a friend coming. You don't have to stay. You've been very kind as it is. Besides, you said you had a plane to catch?"

"Not for another couple of hours. I'll stay with you – just until you fall asleep. That okay? Agent Asshole was outside, hovering, when you went into Radiology. I told him to get lost – doctor's orders – but he said he'd be back." He toys with his cellphone. "So, um, you don't actually think I _look_ like him, do you?"

She shrugs her shoulder non-committally, because it's really bugging him. "A little, maybe."

"Okay, _maybe_ – a little – but I have a personality and a sense of humor. I'm cuter. I'm _definitely_ cuter, though, right?"

Sara sighs. "You're cuter, yes." And it's not a lie.

* * *

When she wakes up, her tousle-haired, puppy-dog-eyed minder is gone. She stares at the note he slipped between her fingers poking out from the cast: _Call me when you get to LA_. He left his phone number, too. She's not going to California any time soon and even if she was, Dr. Freedman is too much of a goofball for her tastes. Still, he put a smile on her face, which is more than she can say for most of the men who've crossed her path.

Kellerman raps his knuckles against the doorframe. "Miss Tancredi, hi. I hope I'm not disturbing you?"

Her smile fades. "Agent Kellerman. If you're worried about me filing a personal injury lawsuit against you or your partner –"

"I'm not here about that." The agent stands with hands clasped formally and, he hopes, unthreateningly before him, waiting to be invited in.

"Checking up on me?"

"Out of concern for you, not my own ass. And it's Paul, by the way." His eyes sweep the room. There's a fruit basket on the table and a flower arrangement on the nightstand. "I owe you an apology for this afternoon. I was rude." Which is a complete understatement, so he tries again. "I was _very_ rude. And I wouldn't have been if I'd known you were Governor Tancredi's daughter."

"Ah." She smiles knowingly. "Well, apology accepted."

This seems to please him and he steps inside the room. "How're you feeling?"

"Better. I still have your tie." Sara retrieves a bundle of creased silk from the nightstand and Kellerman accepts it like a peace offering.

"So, you're being discharged. Can I give you a ride home?"

"I'll call a cab."

"Are you sure? You haven't exactly had much luck with cabs lately." He finishes with his trademark smug smirk.

"Ha. You're a funny man, Paul."

"I like to think that I have my moments."

"Mmm, thank you, but I will manage." She declines politely, but her body language gives her away; it tells Kellerman that the chances of her getting in a car with him, alone, ever are slim to none – which is a pity because she rubs him up the wrong way just enough to know he'd end up liking her, eventually.

"All right, well, you take care of yourself, Miss Tancredi."

"Please thank your partner for me, for the fruit basket."

"Of course."

"And thank you for the flowers."

_She noticed_. "You're very welcome." For the first time in a very long time, he means the sentiment.

* * *

Kellerman forgets about the tie until he's in the parking garage beneath the federal building, fishing his car keys out of his coat pocket. He's about to dump the ruined garment when he catches Sara's subtle floral scent and raises the bundle to his nose, inhaling honeysuckle and white flowers and lily-of-the-valley.

He tucks the tie back in his pocket. Maybe it's not _completely_ ruined after all.


End file.
